


We were together somewhere

by thewildwilds



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Canon Compliant, Christmas, Comedy, Dogs, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Food, Humor, Misunderstandings, Mourning, Post-Canon, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-19
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-08-31 22:43:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8596669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewildwilds/pseuds/thewildwilds
Summary: And I have to say out of all other possibilities, I prefer this one most of all.
(A series of Odesta drabbles and prompt fills previously posted on tumblr.)





	1. Nyotaimori

They called it nyotaimori, the Japanese practice of serving sushi from the naked body of a woman. It was a strange “art form” Finnick had heard of in passing when a new restaurant boasted of it there in Los Angeles, and it only served to fill his head with questions of how sanitary such a practice could be, because he liked his sushi thoroughly untainted, thank-you-very-much.

But tonight, his girlfriend lay upon their coffee table, with an impressive array of sushi and sashimi of all sorts and colorful flowers, all artfully arranged upon her nude form. He didn’t know where to look, because there was salmon, and boobs, and tuna, and boobs, and yellowtail, and this day was quickly chalking up to be the best day ever.

Somebody must have helped her prepare all this; maybe Johanna, not Katniss – she’d be too prudish, and he hoped not Peeta, even though the guy was probably the most culinary-experienced out of the lot of them. He really didn’t like the thought that somebody else had eyes on his naked girlfriend, but at the end of the night, he was the one that truly got to experience naked sushi, so fuck you Mellark.

“Come on,” Annie called to him. “It’s cold.”

He took chopsticks in hand and kneeled in front of the table.

The sushi was very good. Nice and fresh. If Peeta had a hand in this after-all, then he had to give him that. The taste of the fresh seafood practically melting in his mouth was the perfect complement to the lovely presentation of Annie before him.

Traditionally, there was a “no touching the platter” rule, but that was all thrown out the window the moment he saw her tits covered by generous slabs of sashimi. He teasingly trailed a piece of tuna nigiri down her stomach with his chopsticks and Annie had to stifle her giggles to keep from moving too much.

Eventually, he forewent the chopsticks all together and started picking sushi off of her directly with his mouth. He moved tantalizingly slow, lapping at a pool of soy sauce he’d poured onto the valley between her breasts, occasionally brushing against her skin with his hands. She was cold, and the contrast of his warm skin against hers gave her goosebumps all over.

He ducked his head and suckled a pert nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue against the sensitive nub, eliciting a soft moan from her lips. His fingers trailed downward, towards the pretty arrangement of gerbera daisies strategically placed over the space between her legs, knocking away some of the sushi leftover along her torso.

Annie gasped again, but not from pleasure. From shock.

“Finnick Odair, that is _otoro_. Don’t you dare _waste_ that.”

He stared at her, wondering if she was serious. The glare she was giving him meant that she was.

So Finnick sat, dutifully eating piece after piece, until his stomach was practically bursting from far too much sushi than one person should ever consume in a single sitting, and he realized that there probably did exist such a concept as too much of a good thing.


	2. Air Mattress

With six years of marriage and nearly five years of child-rearing under their belt, Finnick and Annie have developed a dependable system on who does what in the house. Finnick does the dishes and laundry and balances the checkbook while Annie cooks and waters the garden and takes out the garbage. Finnick’s the one that normally deals with the pests that manage to stow away in their house, but he can’t do spiders, Annie has to be the one to chase them out. Annie picks up their daughter Cordelia from preschool, but Finnick has to drop her off on his way to work in the morning and then put her to bed.

And Annie is always the one tasked with finding out what their kid wants for her birthday, because Annie freelances as a writer and has more opportunity in the day to do so. He doesn’t miss the bothered look on her face when she walks into their bedroom and announces Cordelia has divulged her birthday wish, because the thing she wants even more than a shiny new bike or a Lalaloopsy cake is to go camping. Not just out in the backyard, like most kids would be satisfied with, no, it has to be _real_ camping, out in the wilderness, because Katniss’s and Gale’s kid gets to go camping all the time, and he gets to see deer and bears and Yetis, and it’s just the _best_ , don’t you love me anymore?

So a camping trip is what they give their daughter for her fifth birthday.

They have their weekend vacation, just this little spot near Malibu Creek, because although Annie is a city girl through and through and Finnick couldn’t afford the “glamping” she kept emailing to him, they both agreed they wanted a place near the water at least, and this place was supposed to have a rock pool. And it was a good excuse to teach their daughter some fishing.

Best of all, Cordelia gets to sleep in her own big girl tent. Annie was reluctant to grant this part of their daughter’s wish, but Finnick eventually managed to convince her that it was no different than sleeping in her own room, so instead she spent the rest of the time before the trip fretting over making sure Cordelia had all her jackets and sweaters and clean underwear to go with the essentials Cordelia packed herself in her rucksack, which consisted of her Dodgers baseball cap, two sleeves of Chips Ahoy! cookies and her toy lightsaber. And she’s so, so excited she gets to be “independent” she could burst.

After fishing and s'mores and campfire stories under the stars that shine so much brighter out in the open, Annie says it’s time for all three of them to hit the sack, and Finnick is about to put Cordy to bed, but suddenly his daughter is not-so-keen about spending the night all alone. Of course she refuses to give up her big girl tent, but she wants her dad to stay with her until she falls asleep, and well, once she juts out her bottom lip (that was _his_ give-me-what-I-want look _first_ ), he really can’t say no.

Annie is passed out already on her side of the air mattress when he makes it back to their tent. He’s grateful to have at least the air mattress, instead of measly sleeping bags on the hard ground. Between driving all the way from Newport Beach and setting up all the camping equipment and convincing Cordelia Yetis only bother trying to eat smelly Hawthornes and not Odairs, he’s just as exhausted as his wife, his eyelids drooping. Like a falling tree, he just teeters over, all six-foot-two of him, and flops onto the mattress.

He really should have seen it coming. He’s heard it a million times before, every time he had to read Jack and the Beanstalk for Cordelia’s bedtime story: The bigger they are, the harder they fall. In his defense, he has no time to do anything about it, once it starts it just _happens;_ one minute, Annie, his tiny little nymph of a wife, is there on the mattress and the next she’s launched straight into the air, and it’s high enough for her to actually skim the polyester fabric of the tent.

… And she doesn’t even wake up. Not even a little bit.

Finnick gapes like a fish. He’s caught somewhere between feeling what-the-ever-loving-fuck astonished and oh-god-yes relieved that his wife won’t beat the crap out of him in a place where she could easily dispose of his body. He must have launched her a good foot or two in the air, and yet she hadn’t even stirred, like she’d been frozen in place curled up with her hand tucked underneath her cheek.

Nope. She’s sleeping like a dead person.

When he finally pushes aside his initial surprise, only one truly rational thought floods his head.

_I need to make a Vine for this._

It goes viral overnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was funnier when Vine was still a thing.


	3. Favorite Record

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _You were the song stuck in my head_   
>  _Every song that I’ve ever loved_   
>  _Played again and again and again_   
> 
> 
> – “Favorite Record” by Fall Out Boy

Truthfully, she forgets about it for many years.

Pollux passed it to her before she returned to District Four after the war, without any explanation. At the time, she hadn’t the heart nor the stomach to deal with it. She supposes anybody that may have known would have considered her cowardly, or heartless, and that’s fine; she’s never been able to control what they think of her, and she doubts she’ll start now. No matter what anybody told her, it was a relic of the past, and she hadn’t the time for the past, not when somebody so small needed her to think about the future. So she hid it away, deep in one of the drawers in the kitchen, where it remained, untouched.

One day, she’s in the middle of trying to find some extra disinfectant wipes in the house. She’s trying to get the place clean while Asher is still at school, and that’s when she uncovers it again, shoved in the back of the drawer behind some checkbooks and loose pencils.

It’s dusty from years of neglect, and her fingertips leave erratic patterns in the dust film when she touches it. She flips it around in her hand a few times, traces her fingers over the faded label. For a long moment, she wonders if she should just put it back again and forget she’d ever seen it. She didn’t need it for so many years, and she can certainly go on without it for many more.

But maybe it’s not about what she needs. Maybe she’s just curious. Maybe she’s in denial. And maybe she just wants to.

Setting aside her broom and duster for a few minutes, she pops the tape into the player connected to the television and sits on the couch to watch.

The first part of the tape is the finished propo. It opens with the District 13 logo and anthem, which, even today, sends an unpleasant chill down her spine. Then it fades to black, and there they are, standing at the altar beneath the net of grass they’d woven the week before. They touch saltwater to each other’s lips, and kiss, and then there are many shots of the District dancing and laughing joyously. It’s all very beautiful, and if she tries hard enough, she can ignore the looming anthem and the voice-over that urges Panem’s citizens to fight the good fight.

The second part of the tape is the unedited version. Just some random clips of the wedding pieced together, with all the racket and noise of the hall completely unfiltered, and even in its undisturbed state, she decides she prefers this one over the other much more.

There’s an unmistakeable tightness in her chest while she continues watching, but for the most part, she’s smiling. These are very good memories, and there’s no reason not to feel happy about them. There are many things she hadn’t noticed the first time around (the _only_ time around), too wrapped up in nothing but her new husband. She counts every cherubic face of the children that sing the traditional wedding song of District Four. She sees how the citizens practically light up while they gorge themselves on the cake made by Peeta, like it’s the only treat they’ll ever receive in a whole lifetime. She laughs at the uncomfortable look on Katniss Everdeen’s face when Johanna pulls her onto the dance floor.

The last shot is probably her favorite. This was a good hour or so after the ceremony, and they hadn’t stopped dancing, despite the dull throb in their feet. The camera is a bit shaky while it’s trained on them, and other dancers continually jump in and out of frame, yet it still manages to capture the sheer joy on their faces perfectly. They sway together in a slow circle, hands tightly clasped, foreheads pressed together, and neither of them can stop smiling those goofy smiles. (And yes, she can remember how much her cheeks ached too.) Finnick dips his head down to whisper something in her ear; she can see his lips moving, but no sound comes through. The camera is too far away to actually capture his words with any sort of clarity, but she hears it all the same, as clear as the moment he said them. (And, she thinks, she’s the last person on earth who will ever know what he said.)

“ _I can’t wait for the rest of our lives to begin.”_

The tape stops abruptly. She swipes her thumb across her cheeks, wiping away the tears that have collected there. She takes the tape out of the player, carefully tucks it back into the drawer, and grabs her things to pick up Asher from school.


	4. FIEND

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A follower requested a drabble with the prompt: “HEY STOP! YOU’RE STEALING MY NEIGHBOR’S DOG! WHAT THE FU – oh, they hired a dog walker? hahaha haha… ha… carry on.”
> 
> Original posted [here](http://thewildwilds.tumblr.com/post/154682719498/hey-congratulations-on-your-followers-so-for-a).

After Annie Cresta has had an exhausting day pushing burgers and balancing trays and cleaning up puddles of spilled beer, there’s nothing that lifts her spirits more than spending the rest of the evening with her neighbor’s dog Hickory. He’s a total mutt of a canine with shaggy gray fur and droopy brown eyes but Annie is absolutely enamored with his boundless energy and sweet little face. Johanna swears Annie loves her dog more than she does, and who can blame her for that assessment? Crazy Cresta spends a sizable chunk of her paychecks on doggy treats and chew toys and other little surprises that make Johanna roll her eyes in amusement.

So when she comes home one day and she sees a complete stranger making off with Hickory in broad daylight, her heart leaps to her throat.

“That’s my neighbor’s dog! You can’t take him!” she wants to say.

“Thief! Hickory! Come back!” she wants to say.

“Give it up right now or I’m calling the police!” she wants to say.

What bursts out of her mouth instead is a strangled cry of, _“_ _GIVE_ _MY_ _HICKEY BACK,_ _YOU_ _FIEND_ _.”_

(In all fairness, the guy is so surprised he actually stops and whirls around and that ends up giving Annie ample opportunity to rush over and launch herself at him.)

In the ensuing chaos, Annie somehow manages to knock the stranger to the ground and wrestle the leash out of his hand. The guy flails on the pavement, struggling to string together a coherent sentence as Annie proceeds to slap him senseless with her purse. All the while, Hickory yaps and barks and cheerfully circles the pair.

“ _CRAZY, WHAT THE FUCK.”_

Johanna stumbles out of her still running car clutching a greasy paper bag of Five Guys in one hand and a large sweaty Coke in the other.

“He was taking Hickory!” Annie wails.

Johanna just about slaps a palm over her face until she realizes she’s holding all her food. “Yeah, he’s the _dog walker_ I hired. Jesus Christ, Crazy.”

“Oh. _Oh.”_ Annie feels all the blood rushing to her face. Her hair is a tangled mess and her blouse hangs crookedly, and when she looks to the poor guy she just assaulted she sees he isn’t faring much better. His hair is rumpled to high hell and his glasses sit askew on his face. Mortified, Annie scrambles to her feet and offers a hand. “Here. Oh god. I am… so sorry. Oh my god. I’m so sorry. Ohhh my god. Oh my god.”

Miraculously, the guy takes her offered hand and helps himself up. Once he actually stands to full height, Annie is amazed to see that she somehow managed to wrestle him to the ground because he’s at _least_ a full head taller than her.

He readjusts his glasses and grins sheepishly. “So. You like dogs, huh?”

“I. Yes. This one’s, um, special,” Annie says, going red.

Hickory barks happily.

“If I offer to let you join Hickory’s walk, will you consider not jumping me again?” Despite the rather poor introduction, there’s still humor in his voice.

“Um. That would be… nice. Yes.” Annie sputters.

(Johanna rolls her eyes and goes inside to chomp into her burger.)


	5. Odair Dare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [oh_so_loverly](https://archiveofourown.org/series/279459) requested a drabble with the prompt: "surprise elf-on-the-shelf-style mistletoe, only instead of kissing under the mistletoe you dare the person who didn't see the mistletoe first."
> 
> Original is [here](http://thewildwilds.tumblr.com/post/154688478303/odesta-surprise-elf-on-the-shelf-style-mistletoe).

On a dark, quiet, blistery Christmas Eve, Finnick finds himself buried head-first and up to his waist in an evergreen bush, tangled up in Christmas lights.

It all starts four weeks earlier when Annie refuses to put up an Elf on the Shelf.

“No. That thing gave me nightmares when I was a kid,” Annie says.

“How the hell,” Finnick says.

“ _It follows you around the house and spies on you, Finnick, what do you want from me.”_

So they start up a new household tradition instead. (Or so they say.) It’s similar, but it involves no creepy doe-eyed dolls. They use mistletoe in its place, and instead of kissing, there are dares.

 _Extreme_ dares.

Since then, the residence has been at full-out Odair Dare war. First, Annie forces Finnick to nuke an entire fruitcake in the microwave until it spontaneously combusts. Then Finnick dares her to drink five cups of egg nog in a row (the taste of which Annie famously hates). Then she demands he wear a ridiculous garland around his neck on their trip to the mall for Christmas shopping. In retaliation, he makes her scream “SANTA!! SANTA’S COMING! I KNOW HIM! _I KNOW HIM!!”_ for a full day every time she hears a holiday song.

It all comes to a head on Christmas Eve when Finnick finds the Odair Dare mistletoe in the cupboard, sandwiched between the jar of peanut butter and the box of Trix.

“You have to climb onto the roof and act like you’re Santa for the kids,” Annie says smugly.

So at night when the kids are brushing their teeth and getting ready for bed, Finnick climbs to the top of their one-story home and gets ready to chime his bells like Santa on his sleigh.

What he _doesn’t_ expect is the practically invisible patch of frost, which, of course, he slips on. He tumbles shrieking off the roof, arms pinwheeling, legs flailing. Somehow he snags onto the Christmas lights with his foot, causing the string to twist up all around him on his way down. He lands face-first in the bushes, long legs sticking out of the foliage at odd angles. He’s bruised and grimy and the very picture of disaster.

Annie and the kids rush out of the house to see the damage, mouths hanging open in shock.

Finnick spits out a mouthful of evergreen leaves and struggles back onto his feet. “Next year,” he groans, “we’re baking Christmas cookies like a normal freggin’ family.”


End file.
